


The Way to a Man's Heart

by seekeronthepath



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anniversary, Cooking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, supportive family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8730412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekeronthepath/pseuds/seekeronthepath
Summary: (Or, Five Times Bitty Cooked Something For Jack, and One Time Jack Cooked Something For Him)For their third anniversary, Jack wants to do something special. The problem is, Bitty gets uncomfortable with expensive gifts. The solution: food.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Burning_Up_A_Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/gifts).



The problem, Jack thought, was that Bitty hated Jack spending money on him. Jack had never fully understood why, not when it was practically impossible for him to overspend, but he did his best to respect it. Which meant gifts were limited to gift-giving occasions, and Jack had gradually refined a gift budget that he thought Bitty was comfortable with. Even if he found it horribly restrictive.

 

\-----

_"Happy Birthday, Jack!" the team had chorused (more or less in time with each other) when Jack got back to the Haus after class. The living room was decorated with a grab-bag of inappropriately-themed banners, streamers, bunting, and balloons - miscellaneous enough that it_ had _to have been chosen deliberately. Shitty had pretty much dragged him over to the dining table, which had a few more-or-less haphazardly wrapped gifts, and a pie covered in candles on it._

 _"Really, Bittle?" Jack had chirped, eyebrows raised. "Birthday_ pie? _Is this a Georgia thing?"_

_"Oh, hush you," Bitty had replied. "You like my maple-apple pies better than any cake, and don't you pretend you don't."_

 

\-----

 

Eventually Jack had figured out that the gifts thing was about reciprocity - he'd been reading about Native American potlatches when the idea struck him. Bitty was so uncomfortable with expensive gifts because there was an implied obligation to match them with something of equal value. Jack, of course, having grown up rich, thought that money was worth far less than the smiles Bitty put on his face. But he supposed he could understand why Bitty didn't think so. So what could he give Bitty for their third anniversary that would be an equal gift with what Bitty generally gave him?

 

\-----

_The afternoon of Jack's first game with the Falconers, Bitty had_ somehow _managed to sneak away and drop off a brown paper bag with a PB &J. And a note: "Good luck today! I believe in you!" Jack still had the note - he kept it in his wallet, in fact, rather than with the others on the fridge. It felt new every time he read it (and he read it a lot). The sandwich wasn't quite as fresh as the ones he usually made himself, but Bitty's pride in him made it taste better than any he'd had before, and of all the meals Bitty had made him, it stood out as one of the most important._

 

\-----

 

Eventually, Jack decided that he couldn't go wrong with food. Making dinner for them both would be a meaningful gesture, and making one of Bitty's favourite foods would be even better. The only problem was, Jack wasn't sure he actually  _knew_  what Bitty's favourite foods were. Bitty cooked  _other_  people's favourite foods, or recipes he was curious about, or things that were nutritionally recommended for the people he cared about.

 

\-----

_The first time Bitty had ever chirped Jack, it was with a pie. About a month into his freshman year, when he'd made enough pies for the team that he knew what everyone liked, he'd come over to the Haus with arms full of grocery bags and shooed everyone out of the kitchen. A couple of hours later, the team was summoned to find a row of mini-pies laid out on the kitchen counter, one for each of them, covered in tea towels so they'd be a surprise. Bitty had worked down the row, giving a pie to each of them - apple, blueberry, rhubarb, strawberries and cream...every pie was different. Jack's pie was last, and by that point, everyone was curious to see what he'd get. "And for Captain Protein over here," Bitty had finally announced, "...a quiche."_

 

\-----

 

Jack's first thought was to look through Bitty's vlog, but there were hundreds of videos by now, and the amount of content was just overwhelming. Instead, he screwed up his courage, and called an expert: Bitty's mom.

 

\-----

_Once Bitty had decided he wanted to come out to his parents, it had taken five days, eleven pies, and a great deal of anxious cuddling before he actually managed to make the call. When he hung up, teary, relieved, and overwhelmed, he'd gone straight to the kitchen, and that night they shared the first peach pie Jack had ever seen him make._

 

\-----

 

"Hello, this is Suzanne Bittle," Bitty’s mom answered automatically.

Jack bit his lip, doing his best to suppress the nerves that bubbled up whenever he talked to Bitty's family. "Hi, Mrs Bittle, it's me, uh, Jack."

"Jack!" Suzanne's voice warmed noticeably. "I've told you before, call me Suzanne. How're y'all doing today?"

"We're - I'm - we're good, Mrs - Suzanne," Jack stuttered. "I was...I was hoping you could help me with something?"

"Of course, sweetie, what can I do for you?"

Jack started pacing. "It's Bitty's - Eric's and my anniversary this week and I thought I'd cook him something? But I don't know what. Or how."

"Aren't you sweet," Suzanne said fondly. "That's a lovely thought, Jack, and I'm sure Dicky'll appreciate it no end. I hope you don't mind my asking if you've cooked much before?"

"I can cook," Jack hurried to reassure her. "Not like Bitty can, but I can follow a recipe and everything. If it's not too complicated."

"Well now." (The phrase and intonation was so Bitty, Jack could practically see Susanne with her hands on her hips and a thoughtful look on her face.) "You can't go wrong with a good stew, I think, and it's one you can set to cooking in that slow cooker my Dicky was gushing about, 'bout three months ago. Do you want me to email you the recipe?"

"I'd appreciate that a lot, ma'am," Jack said gratefully.

"I told you, honey, it's Suzanne until you're ready to call me Mama," Suzanne told him firmly. "Now if I were you, I'd be making sure the nice tablecloth was washed and planning a trip to the farmer's market. There's nothing like good fresh vegetables to make a good stew."

"Thanks, uh, Suzanne," Jack replied. "Have a good day."

"Y'all have a good day too, sweetie, and a lovely anniversary," Suzanne said warmly. "And send me a picture after so I can see how it went."

"Will do," Jack promised. "Bye."

"G'bye now, honey."

 

\-----

_"What are you doing staring at the refrigerator?" Bitty had asked curiously, one afternoon in October, in Jack's senior year. "You know the beer's in the esky, right? And Lardo took the leftovers from this morning, she had the munchies. Oh! Are you planning on going shopping?"_

_Jack hadn't quite understood at the time why Bitty's chatter made him feel so fond. "It's Thanksgiving this week," he'd explained._

_"Thanksg- Oh!" Bitty's doubtful expression had transformed into excited curiosity. "Are you planning on making something?"_

_Jack shrugged. "Nothing fancy. And it's not like I can get the proper ingredients anyway."_

_Bitty tilted his head. "I'm sure we can find some sort of workaround. What do you want to make?"_

_"Poutine," Jack replied. "It's, uh...fries with cheese curds and gravy? The gravy melts the cheese, and..."  He trailed off when he realised that, for once, someone hadn't been instantly skeptical. "It's really good," he said hopefully._

_"Well now," Bitty said, hands on his hips. "We'll just have to see what we can rustle up."_

_A couple of days later, Bitty had disappeared to the farmer's market, come back with actual cheese curds, and helped Jack make enough poutine for the team to share._

 

\-----

 

Suzanne's email, when it arrived, had a recipe for not just Brunswick stew, but also one for peach cobbler.  _"This is the first recipe Dicky ever baked on his own,"_  Suzanne explained,  _"and if you can get good peaches, it's lovely despite the simplicity."_  The farmer's market took on new importance.

 

Jack recruited Tater to help him - or, more accurately, Tater's fridge. "I just need somewhere to keep the ingredients for a couple of days," he'd explained. "I can cook them at home, but I can't exactly hide food from someone living in the same apartment - especially Bitty."

"Not a problem," Tater had reassured him, clapping him on the shoulder. "So long as you save some for me, yes?"

Jack had laughed and replied, "We'll see how it goes."

 

Then there was the dilemma of getting Bitty out of the apartment for two hours while Jack cooked everything. After some consideration, Jack went with the simple option: he asked. "I have something planned for our anniversary dinner," he'd explained, "but I want it to be a surprise, and I need a couple of hours to prepare. I don't want to tell you to leave, but..."

"But if I  _did_  happen to have errands to run between five and seven in the evening, it would be awfully convenient," Bitty finished for him, smiling. "Of course, honey," he'd said, kissing Jack on the cheek. "I'll look forward to it."

 

\-----

 

When the evening finally came, Jack had everything scheduled with military precision. He brought the ingredients over from Tater's in the afternoon, keeping them in a couple of bags and a cooler in the guest room until Bitty left. Then he swung into action, laying out ingredients and equipment for the stew and making sure the slow cooker was set up properly. 

His first snag came when he reread the recipe and noticed Suzanne's note that, if making it in a slow cooker, the stew should cook for  _ten_  hours instead of one. "Fuck," Jack muttered. Pot on the stove it was.

Fortunately, the preparation consisted of very little more than chopping, measuring, and adding to the pot, so he got back on schedule pretty quickly. As he waited for it to boil, he gathered up the dishes and put them on the sink, giving the bench a quick wipe-down. Taking the lid off the pot to check on it, Jack gave the stew one last careful stir, then turned it down to simmer and checked the time. 5:49. Right.

Jack knew the cobbler would be a little trickier, but one couldn't live with Eric Bittle for long and not get a sense for the basics of baked goods. And Jack had joined in enough times that he had his own preferences for how things got done. Step one: lay out the ingredients in the order they'd be needed. (Actually, step one: preheat the oven. Oops.) In  _this_  recipe, the first thing was, unsurprisingly, the peaches. As he peeled, pitted, and sliced them, Jack hoped they'd live up to Bitty's standards. They were certainly good - sweet and juicy and perfectly ripe. (Jack had had one of the extras as a snack earlier.) Once they were done, he set aside his chopping board and set the butter melting, mixing together his dry ingredients while they did. Add milk and stir. Melted butter into the baking dish, batter into the baking dish on top of the butter. Peaches into the dish on top of the batter. Sprinkle cinnamon and sugar on top...and the whole thing into the oven.

Jack stepped back and took a breath. Everything was prepared; now all he had to do was make sure it didn't burn. He set the oven timer for forty-five minutes and checked his watch again. 6:12. Still on schedule. Okay. Time to load the dishwasher.

 

\-----

 

When Bitty got home, just before seven, the kitchen was clean, the table was set with their best tablecloth and good silverware, and the apartment was filled with the mixed smells of stew and baking. "Jack!" Bitty exclaimed, setting down his bag in the hall and hurrying to the kitchen. "Bless your heart, what..." He fell silent at the sight of Jack pulling the peach cobbler out of the oven.

"This is done, right?" Jack asked nervously, setting the dish down on the stove, away from the covered pot.

"Jack, that's..." Bitty cleared his throat. "That's my Moomaw's cobbler."

Jack relaxed a little, a smile spreading across his face. "It's for later," he said. "Stew first."

"Stew - " Bitty glanced into the pot and realised what was going on. "Oh, step away from the stove so I can kiss you, you wonderful man."

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a Christmas fic, but it was made as a gift, and I hope that all of you reading this have a lovely December, and that any gifts you receive in the near future are both thoughtful and delightful. I look forward to reading your comments!


End file.
